You're Not Alone
by MoChroi
Summary: Tim's reaction to Kon's death, as his surrogate family tries to help him. Inspired/based on the episode "Time Has Come Today" from Grey's Anatomy. Although I'm not a huge fan of the show, I really enjoyed this episode. Can be interpreted as slash or friendship. My first story, I'm still getting the hang of


Tim lay on the cold tile floor of the bathroom for what felt like years, reliving the events that had happened the night before, over and over again. No matter how he replayed it in his head, no matter how many scenarios he rewrote, he always failed. Kon always died.

* * *

"How long has he been in there?" Bart asked.

"Three days," Cassie said. "He hasn't eaten, hasn't spoken," she ran her fingers under her exhausted eyes. "He hasn't even changed his clothes."

"Maybe we should call Nightwing," Jaime said rubbing the back of his head. The three of them looked as each other, before Cassie nodded solemnly.

Bart was the first to go in. For what felt like the first time in his life, he did something very slowly and carefully. He got down and lay beside Tim. He laid down on his stomach, his head resting on his crossed arms. Bart's eyes searched Tim's face but his eyes were cold and unseeing.

"…_Tim_-,"

"Don't. Don't do that," Tim told him in an expressionless tone. So Bart didn't say anything, he just laid there beside his best friend.

* * *

Dick walked into the cold bathroom to see Tim lying on his side, staring at nothing, still wearing the tattered, ripped Robin uniform. The only thing missing was his mask. Dick knew the last thing Tim needed was a lecture or for a "grown up" to talk down to him, so he got down beside him and laid on his back, cold tiles hard against his spine. They laid there for a few silent moments as Dick stared up at the ceiling.

"My family was my world. When you're twelve, you never imagine someone you love could be taken away from you in a split second. Just like that. No warning, nothing you could do, no matter how much you tried to fix it, nothing."

"I could've done something," Tim spoke.

Dick turned his head toward Tim, whose eyes were icy and glazed over. "You can keep telling yourself that. I did. Over and over, bargaining and begging to just go back and fix it. You can do it for weeks, months, years, however long it takes. Until one day you realize that's not the way the world works. It keeps spinning, with or without you. Look at me, Tim." Tim's eyes shifted slightly until they settled on Dick's face. "It was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

Tim finally met Dick's eyes. "I failed all of them. When it really mattered, I couldn't bring Kon back. I couldn't save my father, I couldn't save Steph, and I couldn't save Kon. Tell me how I could let that happen."

They remained quiet for a while. Dick looked at Tim's face. There was a scabbing cut on his left cheekbone and a bruise on the side of his right eye. But Tim didn't look like he felt any of those things. He looked like he couldn't feel anything at all.

* * *

_Tim stood in the hard rain, the sound of pouring water roaring in his ears, drowning out every sound. He searched frantically for any sign of life until he made out two figures in the distance. The closer he got, the more the sound of the rain was replaced with another sound. Cassie. She's crying. Tim approached her crumpled body until he saw what she was laying on. Her sobs became the only sound in Tim's ears. Kon's dead corpse sprawled on the ground, rain washing away his blood._

Tim's eyes blinked open slowly to meet Cassie's, who was lying beside him, facing him.

"Tim, you have to get up. You have to change."

"Have you ever been to Gotham, Cassie?" he asked. She looked at him for a moment.

"Once," she answered.

"There are lots of Jewish people in Gotham. I grew up around them. They have this ritual called _Shiva. _It's a mourning period for the dead. Normally it's for immediate relatives: fathers, mothers, wives, brothers…"

"Tim…"

"But I don't have any of those, not anymore. During _Shiva,_ they cover the mirrors and everyone sits on low stools or the who knew the deceased don't wear jewelry, no leather shoes, no shaving…" His eyes met Cassie's. "No clean clothes."

"This doesn't have to be _Shiva, _Tim," Cassie told him.

There was a moment of silence between them.

"I don't know what else to do for him, Cas. Everyone is just hovering over me waiting for me to be Tim Drake, to be the leader, to make the hard decisions, and I want to do that, I want to be there for them, but I can't, not when Kon's not here."

Cassie blinked at him, a tear slipping out of her eye, rolling over the bridge of her nose onto the floor.

"I don't want to be Tim lying on the bathroom floor in a ripped hero costume while everyone waits outside for me to lead or lose my mind or kill myself. How did we get here? How did this happen? Why am I the one that's alone while my father, my girlfriend, my best friend are all gone?"

Cassie breathed in and wiped her face as she reached over a hand.

"You're not alone, Tim." She looked at him. "You're not alone."

Tim closed his eyes and remembered every moment he knew Konnor.

She gripped his hand, as she stood up, pulling him up with her. He stood and exhaled. "Okay," he said.

She took a towel and began wiping away the dried blood from his face. She turned on the shower before helping him step out of the torn shredded remains of the uniform.


End file.
